


Here be Monsters

by leveldevil



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Adult Content, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7627447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leveldevil/pseuds/leveldevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all his life, Vincent tried to push Sephiroth away – but what he never realized was that Sephiroth was more drawn to monsters than repulsed by them…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Age: 4

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vivy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivy/gifts).



> This fanfic is AU and heavily handwaves most of the timeline of FFVII. While I did consult fan-made timelines concerning Vincent and Sephiroth’s stories, there is a lot of inconsistency here and there and even official guidance from SE is chaotic. So apologies for that in advance.
> 
> Dedicated to the inspiring Ivy, who masterfully dominates Sephiroth’s personality and sparkled the desire to write this piece.

Nightmares have always been more powerful than dreams: you could always wake up from a beautiful dream, but sometimes you were trapped in horrible nightmares. For Vincent Valentine, his self-induced slumber was one endless bad dream filled with his mistakes, his own death and his regrets, over and over and over again.

One he didn’t allow himself to escape.

Sometimes he would relive his own previous life, his existence prior to the monster he had become; sometimes he would instead be plagued with scenarios of what-could-have-beens, only to have his idyllic visions of the future shattered in the most vicious ways; sometimes he would be downright haunted by the voices which now inhabited his head too, jumbling his thoughts and voiding any sense of identity he still retained.

External circumstances were of no consequence to Vincent: he slept and suffered as the world above him carried on as if he was never tortured and experimented on. People worked, married, celebrated life and all its hardships without even realizing that a dead man was still living inside a coffin. He also cared nothing for his surroundings – locked away from humanity, no one disturbed his sleep.

Until, one day, the door to the secret chamber he had laid himself to rest opened.

The old door creaked, protesting against the use of its old hinges. A pale, sick light came from the tunnel outside, allowing just enough illumination into the room to enable a small child to take its first, hesitant steps inside. His blue eyes were brighter than they should be, a result of the mako injected into his young body; his hair was silver like moonlight, kept short and wild, a few strands sticking to different directions as if they had a mind of their own. His hands were petite and pale, eager to touch and discover anything within their reach.

Little feet carried the young boy forward. He was unlike most boys of his age at the town – he could see in the dark, he claimed once, when his father took him outside on a rare field trip. Well, he had to remember not to call him father – Mr. Hojo was how he liked to be addressed – but no one could hear it in his thoughts. He was the bespectacled man who took care of him and who offered him sweets when he didn’t complain about his injections and exams. He was his father, he was sure.

His vision revealed a set of very interesting shapes – big, dark boxes which he approached to find a dusty collection of bones inside. He reached out to them, tracing the outline of a skull and appreciating how polished it was… Almost like a ball. He walked around, finding similar relics in the other boxes and unaffected by the clear signs of death there; he had been brought up in a lab. He was often sad to see his pet companions go, but he understood it – it was life. Some needed to die so other could be born.

His steps took him to the one closed box in the center of the room. Why should that one be closed? His small hands reached for it, trying to pull it open – but it didn’t bulge. Frowning and now curious, the boy tried again, this time pushing it to the side… And, much to his surprise, succeeding in sliding it over to the ground. The sound was a bit loud in such a quiet place, but no one seemed to notice.

He should not have been able to do it – but then again, Sephiroth had never been like anyone else.

His blue eyes examined the face of a man – an unknown man. He was still and had his eyes closed, his hands folded over his chest and appeared to ignore anything from the outside world. Curious, he stood on the tip of his toes, leaning forward and stretching his arm, just enough to touch his cheek.

“Mister?”

It was warm. Sephiroth was very confused and intrigued by the pale man, dressed in black and red and seemingly dead to the world. However, he could not be dead – he wasn’t cold, like his pet rabbit once was – and the boy poked him in other places to make sure he was still soft, free of the rigor mortis he had seen before.

“Mister, are you dead?”

The voice was high-pitched and soft, clearly the one of a child. His question was not louder than the lid which had slipped to the ground, but somehow it pierced Vincent’s troubled sleep and resonated within. Where no external stimuli perturbed him, the voice of that kid went straight to his own tormented dreams, breaking his connection with himself and guiding him back to reality.

No one should be able to rouse him from the dead. But then again, Sephiroth was not just anyone.

“Mister?”

“Who are you?”

His voice was hoarse, dry; it clearly suffered from the lack of use. How many years had passed since his last real uttered word? Screams in illusions didn’t count, of course… His pained cries had all been silent to the actual world. But his question was futile because as soon as his eerily red eyes focused on the boy calling for him, he knew.

He just knew.

“Sephiroth. Who are you?”

The name made Vincent’s heart stop – it actually skipped a beat, as if a bird suddenly caught by an invisible tree branch during a regular flight and needed to readjust its course. It shouldn’t be possible – he never intended to be found; especially not by that child.

“I’m the devil.”

It was unwise to offer him a name that could lead to any later acknowledgment. It was dangerous to create any kind of relationship with him, honestly. He could feel the beasts within growing agitated, desperate to break free – one of them in special. He could hear their bloodthirsty cries, their obscene demands. _‘Rip his throat! Gauge his eyes off! Feast on the boy!’_

“But… But how can you be the devil… When you don’t have horns?”

Vincent found himself smiling at that. Ah, the sweet innocence children possessed… Maybe that was it, then – he should have the pointed horns, the sharp fangs, the threatening claws of one of his forms to properly scare Sephiroth away. Maybe that would do the trick – maybe that would protect the boy.

“Who says I don’t have them? Maybe you just can’t see…”

“I can see!” the boy actually pouted, clearly offended at the idea of him underperforming at some task than becoming afraid at the idea of dealing with anything indeed supernatural, “I can see in the dark, I’d see your horns if you had any!”

“Can you, now?”

And slowly, ever so slowly, his red eyes started to glow – a golden tint appeared around the edges and then grew bigger, expanding not unlike a drop of paint on water. Soon his gaze was as bright as any sun, his lips twisting in a wicked smile that allowed room for a pair of fangs to show. From his head, from the middle of his hair and perforating the red bandana which kept his dark hair in place, a pair of dark, curvy and slender horns started to grow.

Sephiroth took a step back.

**“You’re brave, boy, I’ll give you that. But you should not tempt your fate… Run away while you can and go back to the light, otherwise I’ll steal your soul and ravish your body.”**

The voice… The voice was malicious, unkind; it made no empty threats and even as a child the blue-eyed boy could notice it. The moment the man in the coffin sat down and made as if to reach for him with terrible, distorted claws, the kid screamed and bolted for the door, locking it behind him and running away as fast as he could. The sound of his small footsteps echoed until silence overtook the place, and Vincent slowly regained control of himself.

It had been no easy feat – to allow Chaos to come forward and then push him back to the confines of his being was burdensome, exhausting even… But a sacrifice that Sephiroth deserved and one he willingly performed. Once he was sure to be fully himself again, Vincent retrieved the lid to the coffin and laid down once more, closing it on top of him and resuming his torment enveloped by darkness.


	2. Age: 9

This time, the steps which took the boy back to the secret chamber were no longer curious and adventurous – they were determinate. He knew what he was going after and he now returned on purpose, his mind clearly intent on setting the record straight.

Sephiroth was unlike anyone else – he wouldn’t allow himself to have such childish fears; he wouldn’t fall for cheap parlor tricks again. This man, this ‘devil’, was certainly nothing supernatural. Frightening a four year old boy was easy enough, but he older now. Wiser, stronger and bolder.

He opened the door to the chamber and it still made the same high-pitched, eerie sound – but this time it didn’t send a shiver down his spine. It budged easily enough for an older boy, and the light which came from outside was still fickle and yellowed, almost as if sick – but enough for what he wanted to do. Sephiroth walked directly to the closed coffin, ignoring the bones which remained there since his last visit, and pushed the lid open with a single, clean shove.

That brought a smile to his lips – well, who was weak now? But even with the sound of the heavy object falling to the stone floor, nothing happened. The man was still as he had been on the first day he saw him, and looking exactly the same: not a single day appeared to have passed. The only evidence that they had talked before came from the two punctures on the fabric of his red bandana, marking the places where the horns had emerged.

The memories related to that first night made Sephiroth tremble – but he repressed that feeling and stretched his hands again, brushing the fingertips against the pale face of the sleeping figure and waiting.

Waiting…

Nothing happened and he did it again – he actually lowered his hands, two digits going to pressure the skin of his neck and looking for a pulse, just like he had learned to do ages ago during his exams. He was always praised by the doctors when he took his pulse correctly and anticipated their medical requests even before they voiced them.

No children should be used to so many injections and treatments, but he never complained. Sephiroth was not like the other boys, after all.

The pulse was there: steady but very faint, almost as if the man had willed himself to a deep slumber or meditative state. The boy was about to poke the strange man again when he felt an odd feeling, an itch of some sort – he raised his head and found himself caught under the stare of a crimson, shining gaze.

“You again.”

“You will not scare me anymore,” he said, removing his hand and standing back, but only because he wasn’t overly fond of touching strange people when they suddenly regained consciousness, “You are not the devil.”

“You seemed pretty convinced last time. I am sure I offered you all the material evidence required,” Vincent said with a small smile. Well, wasn’t Lucrecia’s son a tenacious boy. He thought he had settled this issue… Years ago, it seemed. The kid had grown to be tall, probably as tall as he was when he had that age. His hair was longer, straighter and falling around his face in a delicate way. His eyes still shone like two brilliant, innocent pools of Mako blue – he was glad for that. He never wished for any harm to come to him.

“It was a trick,” he said, folding his small arms over his chest. Sephiroth was clearly not impressed – many people could master materia and transform themselves into something else… Probably he had materia hidden somewhere with him. “Why would you do that? Why lock yourself here?”

Ah, the fateful question. One that made Vincent grunt and move in order to sit down, using the coffin itself as support for his back. He considered repeating the feat from years ago to see how much Sephiroth had truly grown out of his childish fears, but the voices seemed stronger. Something about the touch of the boy, the sweet smell soap combined with the dust from the manor and a citric, familiar perfume… Had he been eating oranges?

_‘Claim him for you! Tear limb from limb apart! Bathe in his blood, bask in his innocence!’_

The smile which had been on Vincent’s face died then. He wasn’t sure what Sephiroth’s goal there was – just because he failed one time, would he keep coming? The man thought that locking himself in a coffin in the basement of a secluded mansion would give him a hint, but apparently the boy was just like every other kid of his age who couldn’t stand a ‘no’; couldn’t avoid going where he shouldn’t go.

But most boys wouldn’t be looking for the devil, in the first place. Sephiroth, in contrast, was seeking a rematch.

“That is a question with many different answers and certainly you can see some of them for yourself.” And the moment he said it, Vincent regretted it. It sounded like a challenge and he could see the way it excited the boy. He had dropped his guard and he no longer thought possible to be scared again – he was in mystery-solving mode now.

“You dislike people. You… Wanted to sleep in peace. Maybe you thought no one would ever come here, but I know every inch of the mansion. I grew up here,” he added, eyes downcast as he seemed to think over his ideas. One hand was raised, the index finger against his lips as he pondered over the idea of someone never wanting to see people again… Well, who couldn’t relate? Some days, he’d tire of the test tubes and the needles. But he never went as far as locking himself someplace.

“Do you still live here?”

Sephiroth raised his head to face the man and noticed he had moved a bit – he had leaned on his own elbows, apparently intrigued by the notion of his living arrangements. Sephiroth couldn’t see why, though. “No,” he said, shaking his head, “We moved shortly after… The first time I came here. I live in Midgar now, but I often come visit Nibelheim during the winter.”

Was it winter now? The weather there was always chilly, but to Vincent it mattered not; he didn’t feel like any change to the external world had any impact on his eternal slumber, now facing a second interruption. Did Hojo knew he was the reason that scared his precious experiment so much? He was glad for that small success, but failing at keeping him away mitigated the sense of victory.

_‘Snow must be falling outside… You could just drag him there, kill him there! Think about how pretty the snow will look once it drains all his blood…’_

“You were right, Sephiroth.”

“Huh?”

“I thought no one else would ever find me.” Vincent said and now he actually moved, standing up and stepping away from the coffin. The resolve in the kid diminished perceptibly as his once feared demon now came to stand tall above him, eyes still gleaming dangerously red and promising regret if the boy didn’t move away.

But Sephiroth didn’t do it – he didn’t move, he wouldn’t run away again! He was rooted to the ground and his fingers curled into balls, but he refused to let it show. He tilted his chin up, defiantly, staring at his strange companion.

“But I have found you! So what are you going to do about it? Grow horns again? Tell me to run back to light? I won’t do it just because you say so.”

Such childish arrogance. Vincent could see a bit of himself in the boy – a lonely kid, brought up in an environment clean of other peers and with serious adults around. He pretended to be tough and responsible, but in the end that only made him miserable and desperate for a validation that not always came. He had no idea how to adequately measure danger or imprudence yet… Challenging the unknown man was certainly an act of boldness and courage to his own eyes.

He moved then – too quickly for Sephiroth to react and avoid being slammed to one of the walls. The older man needed just one hand to hold him aboveground, pinning him to place with ease and further trapping him under the hypnotic red of his gaze. He gasped and struggled, obviously trying to break free but stopping when he realized he was going to be out of breath – he was going to die, suffocated!

_‘Snap his neck! So close, so close that I can hear his blood pumping, his fear growing! Do it, just break it in two, should be a marvelous spectacle to see the light going out of the vivid blue eyes…’_

“If you won’t heed my orders, I’ll have to make it so,” he said, going outside and only then releasing the boy, half-tossing him back to the hallway, “There’s a reason I don’t want to be found, Sephiroth. Do not return… Or I’ll make you regret your choice.”

He closed the door upon returning to his chamber again, but his hearing could still capture the sound of quick, labored breathing. Vincent could almost see the boy massaging his neck, his body bent forwards as he tried to recover from the shock of such a near-death experience – because he smelled his fear like an animal would have. He almost tasted it, the metallic tang of the blood, the softness of the skin before going rigid…

This was too dangerous. Sephiroth could never return – had anyone else broken and entered, he doubted he would have risen from his sleep, even. But this boy… This boy was more trouble than he could deal with.

He was back into the coffin and pulling the lid over his box when he heard the steps retracing the way up to the stairwell. Hopefully his mission was done now – he was properly locked with his own inner demons who could do nothing to Gaia as long as he kept his sacrifice. Never awaking, never living – just turning in his dreamless sleep.


	3. Age: 16

“You’re Vincent Valentine.”

So he had failed. Again. Vincent mused at how good he was at utterly failing at whatever task he set himself on the path to do when it came to relationships, apparently. He excelled at playing the violin, he was an incomparable marksman, he had a profound knowledge of the classic sciences and liberal arts… And yet, whenever he tried to keep someone close, he was pushed away.

However, it seemed that when he tried to scare someone away for good, they kept coming back.

Vincent opened his eyes, focusing his gaze on the figure of the boy who was no longer a child. During their first encounters, it had required his touches and even his voice to raise him from his slumber; now mere words were enough and his voice had a commandeering tone to it. He could see it in his eyes – the mako blue pools were still innocent, but not so gentle anymore.

Sephiroth had clearly opened the lid and sat down on the edge of the open coffin, his legs crossed. He was decked in what the former Turk recognized easily as the uniform for a SOLDIER, 3rd class. He was a cadet, maybe, judging from how clean and new the outfit looked on him. His hair had grown longer, and had been tied in a ponytail that went down way past his shoulders.

How old was he now? Fourteen, fifteen? _‘Old enough to be broken and abused, don’t you think? You may have resisted his former innocence, but what about now? He’s asking to be tainted, he just wants to know how much he can take before he breaks…!’_

His entire body language was different – he was stiff, unafraid. The posture of someone who had been subject to long hours of training and learned how to carry himself around. It was still a work in progress, but he could clearly see the transition from the curious child to the youthful prodigy.

“I am.”

“So why didn’t you say so when I asked?”

“My name is of no significance to you. Besides, I hardly lied,” Vincent said as he moved, sitting down on his coffin and merely regarding Sephiroth. Only then did he realize that the room was brighter than it should be – and found the source of light: a small fire, burning at a corner of the chamber. Whether that was mastered materia or a common one he couldn’t tell, “The devil has many names.”

“Will you stop? I am no child, I know that was meant to scare me away only. I know… What happened here.” Sephiroth’s voice suddenly dropped when he mentioned his knowledge of Vincent’s past… And that picked his interest. Did he, know? 

_‘Do you know how much he wants you to suffer? Do you know how much he yearns to see you screaming?’_

“Enlighten me, then. What happened?”

The smile that appeared on Vincent’s face seemed to discourage Sephiroth from whatever show he wanted to put on. He had been bluffing and now that he had been called on it, he didn’t want to let it show. He had learned of his name – Vincent Valentine – and had uncovered a bit of his past, but he didn’t have all the pieces yet. But still, he went on, because he had made this man a mission like no one else had.

“I ran a search on Shinra databases. No civilian personnel were authorized to be here, so you had to be a former employee or contractor. I specified your physical characteristics and also focused my search on dismissed people only… And then your file appeared. You used to be a Turk,” he said, his eyes now softening and becoming inquisitive, almost as how he used to be as a kid, “And you’ve also been dead for years, according to your file.”

“Aren’t you resourceful,” Vincent commented with a mock smile, but relieved to see he hadn’t picked up on the most important parts yet. Hopefully he’d never had the necessary clearance or the idea to venture into the old labs, the library and other passages of the manor. 

Sephiroth, however, ignored the jab at his skills. He uncrossed his arms, his hands holding on the edge of the coffin as he looked at the floor and seemed to be lost in thought. His profile was illuminated in orange hues thanks to the fire that burned, and that gave him an eerie beauty. Vincent was suddenly reminded of Lucrecia and how she looked whenever they made fires at the backyard of the manor, but he willed himself to stop thinking about her.

_‘Don’t you think this is fate? She gave me to you, now her son has come to you as well. We’re destined to meet, we’re destined to make great things together… We’ll burn and tear and ripe him apart, let me paint the walls with his blood…’_

“How are you alive?”

“Maybe your data is incorrect.”

“Shinra’s databases are not faulty.”

“So much faith in the company. You’ll go far, Sephiroth,” the smile was almost cruel, with a hint of mockery to lighten it up. The young SOLDIER clearly took offense, scoffing and looking away as if he didn’t deign Vincent worthy of his time anymore. However, the man knew he wasn’t about to go away… He had become something even more intriguing to the adolescent and now he had no idea of how he could scare him. Maybe he was the first person he’d not be able to push away.

_‘Kill him and I guarantee he’ll never come back.’_

“Someone shot me dead and used me for experiments. These experiments enhanced my body and made me strong enough to overcome death.”

The names and dates were omitted on purpose and it was best not to disclose too much on the beasts, but maybe the truth could finally remedy this situation. Sephiroth quickly turned his attention to the paler man and blinked, several times – apparently he was trying to decide whether Vincent was telling him the truth or not.

Smart, smart boy. Hopefully he’d inherited the intelligence of his mother and nothing from his father. That was wishful thinking on the ex-Turk’s part, but since the adolescent was so unlike everyone else, maybe that small grace would be granted to him…

_‘You’re a fool, Valentine – there are no graces, there are no gods. But the demons are real and here be monsters…’_

“The horns, the eyes, the claws… Experiment or materia?”

The way he phrased the question made it clear – he had thought about it a lot. It was an odd feeling to know he was one of the clearer, strongest memories of the son of the woman he loved so dearly once. Funny how he seemed to care about Vincent when he made it painfully clear that he should have stayed away. Would he lose interest if he tried to keep his attention?

Rather than answering, he felt like showing – one hand went to his gauntlet and he was a little proud to see the boy quickly jumping to his feet and assuming an almost defense-like position. He smiled, gesticulating at him and wordlessly assuring the boy that he meant no harm – and removed the accessory from his left arm, rolling up the black sleeve of his shirt and letting blue eyes peruse the sight.

The skin there was not pale – it was greyish, almost as if the tissue had died and withered. It was also uneven and rough to the touch, as Sephiroth discovered when he used his index finger to run along the expense of damaged flesh, astonished and oddly fascinated by that. He was perfection personified, entranced by the sight of his polar opposite – a true monster.

“Who did this?”

“Someone. Someone I’d kill if I had the chance,” and these words came with a cruel smile, but not of the sadistic kind – it was merely a promise that made his heart warmer at the idea. Sephiroth watched as he reattached the gauntlet to his arm, the gold replacing the odd piece of flesh. His silence spoke volumes.

“Have you killed many people before?”

“I was a Turk, boy.”

“I know. Did you?”

“Do you want numbers? One loses count when it becomes a habit,” he said coolly, resting against the wooden box he occupied. It wasn’t that easy, to be honest – he remembered his first kill as vividly as if it had happened last night; and he remembered a lot of faces, a lot of names, even though some of them started to blur. However, once you had blood on your hands and you accepted it was never going away, it was easier to keep coming home covered in red.

_‘This is why you are home, yes you are. You were made for the kill, you are a monster just like me. Killing is easy when killing is both your nature and your purpose…’_

“I have never killed anyone. But I know I’ll have to, one day,” he said, his voice neutral and collected – his eyes were the ones giving away his fears, his insecurities. At that moment, he was once more the four year old boy he met, so scared of the devil, so worried for his soul.

Vincent had no doubt he spoke the truth – he could tell he was being shaped to be a weapon, to be used by forces beyond his young grasp to do their bidding. He had fallen prey to these puppeteers in the shadows as well, but he was never an innocent man to begin with… But Sephiroth? The boy was an angel still – they would have him fall for their agenda and glory.

“Do you want to?”

“What difference does it make?” he retorted, the slightest touch of angst tainting his words. Somehow, the ex-Turk didn’t believe he was allowed to voice these things within Shinra. Maybe he was the only person who couldn’t judge the youngster because he was already out of reach for anybody, “It’s not like there is a choice when the time comes for me.”

Oh, how these words hurt. This was what the raven-haired man had been shot for and died; this was the suffering and pain he had longed to stop, but ultimately failed to. And now here they were, both of them stuck with the very bad hands dealt by life and trying to do something with that. Sephiroth was choosing to resign himself to his fate as Shinra’s pride, Vincent was being forced to see how useless his sacrifice had been.

_‘There’s always a choice, you could just slit that pretty neck of his and all would be over…’_

“You always have a choice, Sephiroth. Isn’t why you came to me?”

The 3rd class SOLDIER appeared to be surprised at the words – and he took a couple of steps back when Vincent got up. He heard the words in his head and he knew they represented a way out for him – if he ended this now, Sephiroth would no longer have to suffer. He’d serve no one’s purposes but his own, he would not be tainted just because Shinra wanted him to bear the blame for so much blood and death. But… Could he do it?

Mako blue and fiery red met and stood like that for eternity, each man examining the other. It was an unfair question to make, really – but hadn’t he warned the boy? Hadn’t he said he should never return?

“Would you do it, then? If… I asked?”

“Do you still doubt my threats?”

By now Vincent had stepped outside the coffin. He was taking slow steps in Sephiroth’s direction, cornering him to the stone-cold walls of the chambers. His heart was beating wildly, he could tell – blood was rushing to the face and he seemed so alive, so very human and precious that the beasts inside the ex-Turk longed to get out and tear him apart.

But he insisted, fought for control and won – and by the look on the SOLDIER’s eyes, he could tell he had noticed the shift in his eye color, albeit briefly. Sephiroth had no room between him and the man who was still mysterious to him, having offered him no resistance at all.

“You never carried out your previous threats…”

The SOLDIER had been pinned to one of these walls before and so, so very afraid of dying; but now, he was almost back to the same place but felt no fear; he felt nothing. He had this undeniably strong suspicion that Vincent was incapable of truly hurting him. He didn’t know why, but his instinct told him that he never wanted to do him any real harm…

And now, Sephiroth actually considered that idea. He knew his fate was to destroy dreams and illusions of many people under the excuse of protecting these of the people who had aligned themselves with Shinra. He knew nothing about the world outside a life of duty and servitude. Would death be better?

“Do not test me, Sephiroth.”

“Why?” 

And in that moment, Vincent almost spilled all his secrets. He almost told the boy everything he knew about his past, their story together, his parentage and the conditions of his birth. He got very close to that abyss and looked into it, but he refrained from jumping. It wasn’t his place to do this. The boy didn’t deserve to bear the pain of Vincent’s shameful sins.

“Because you’re very close to getting what you actually want. But I won’t give you that,” he said, stepping away and regarding the boy coldly. He could show no affection, no lingering respect for him. He had to pretend he didn’t care about his struggles and that he would never offer him a way out – because the day he agreed with Chaos, was the day Vincent relinquished whatever humanity he had left. He could not kill Sephiroth.

The SOLDIER seemed… Almost disappointed. But internally, the feeling was bittersweet. He didn’t actually wanted to die, but he didn’t want to kill, either. He just couldn’t see a way to avoid this future if not by taking his own life, but now it was too late. He wasn’t brave enough to do it himself… To slit his writs and be done with it. He would have to carry on.

“So you’d stand idly by and watch everything go to hell?”

Vincent had turned his body around and was about to step inside his coffin when the accusing words reached him. He smiled then, chuckling darkly for a second before looking at Sephiroth once more and adding:  
“I am only like this because I tried to intervene in something greater than myself once. I am already a monster, Sephiroth. Hell is already here.”

He sat down and pulled the lid over to him, but the SOLDIER hadn’t left yet. He was still watching him with these blue eyes, so tantalizing and which seemed to tell so many tales about him. The voices in his head screamed now, yearned for the fulfillment of the threats, but he ignored them. 

“Go away, Sephiroth. There’s nothing for you here.”

Even with the lid closed, Vincent’s enhanced senses allowed him to hear the fire still burning outside and the rhythmed breath of the boy. Minutes, hours passed by until the chamber was enveloped by darkness again, colder when the source of heat finally died; but the sound of footsteps going away and of the old door closing came much later. 

Only then he allowed himself to sleep.


	4. Age: 24

Vincent was surprised to wake up one day to the sound of someone crying. It was faint and distant, almost as if still part of the dreams he so often had: his own death, bloody battles, Sephiroth killing and going insane, breaking from within… He was even granted visions where he actually killed the boy on his last visit, his fingers choking the silver-haired youth until he no longer breathed… And visions where he was killed by him in return.

But the crying intensified, and the ex-Turk was confused as to how such a soft sound reached him, locked inside the coffin. It was him who opened it this time, pushing it aside and stunned to find that the source of such noise was no one else but Sephiroth, who was currently sitting just opposite him and leaning against one of the walls of the chamber.

He was no longer an adolescent but a man fully grown. His hair was impossibly long, descending from his shoulders and way past them, reaching almost the end of his back, if he calculated correctly. He was dressed in fancy clothes, black and mostly likely made of leather, judging by their smell. He was using gloves and protective gear on his shoulders, his legs enveloped by black, form fitting pants and boots. 

He was so strikingly beautiful that his heart skipped a beat. _‘Doesn’t it hurt you, to see beauty so close and realize it will be forever unattainable to you?’_

The older man realized he had been staring when he was confronted by pained, tainted mako blue. There was so much sorrow in these orbs that Vincent almost couldn’t bear it. He recalled their previous conversation and a sinking feeling filled the ex-Turk, the notion that maybe all that suffering was on him – he was the one that made Sephiroth follow a path designed for him and from which no escape was possible…

“What happened?”

He suspected he’d never have awoken to the cries of anyone else, but he had learned long ago that the silver-haired man was different. There was this connection between them which kept being reestablished, no matter how many times Vincent tried to sever it. Sephiroth, who clearly had heard the noise of the coffin being opened, didn’t move. He merely stayed where he was, his crying a bit subdued and transformed into sniffles.

“I didn’t mean for you to… Wake up.”

Vincent could tell that – he never thought he would, either. But the way Sephiroth phrased the apology made the ex-Turk think that it wasn’t the first time the SOLDIER sought solace in there. Frowning slightly, he sat down inside his box and ran a hand through his hair, removing the red bandana that kept his raven-like locks behind. It still bore the two marks of where his horns had emerged once… Somehow, he doubted he’d need to summon them again.

He stood up and then decided to approach the younger man. They were in the dark this time, their eyes being the sole source of any light due to their inhuman glow. However, since both could see so well in the complete darkness, no one required additional illumination… And Vincent had a nagging suspicion that the silver-haired man even preferred it so.

“I am awake nonetheless. What happened?”

“Why you ask? You made it painfully clear that you didn’t care.” The answer was almost like a stab at Vincent’s heart, and the sniffle that came afterwards was the final turn of the blade. And Vincent knew that this was the perfect moment to agree with him, that he should turn his back and go back to sleep… He should…

_‘Kiss him and tell everything is going to be alright… And then kill him. Put him out of his misery, add another sin to your ever-growing list…’_

The ex-Turk sat down just beside Sephiroth, ignoring every warning in his head. The SOLDIER seemed surprised, but said nothing nor did he try to push the raven-haired man away. They stood in silence for a long while, a period which seemed to last a single second for Vincent – but the silver-haired man had regained his self-control and no longer wept, having cleared away the remains of the tears with his left thumb.

“I am a 1st class SOLDIER now. About to be made General.”

Vincent nodded. Somehow, it felt like it should be expected. The boy had always been prepared for greatness and he was sure he was fit for the role. The question had always been about what Sephiroth wanted for himself, not his abilities to get there. 

“I also spoke to Veld on certain occasions regarding you.”

_‘So beautiful, but so deadly.’_

That caught the raven-haired man completely off-guard. There was no use pretending that it hadn’t affected him – Sephiroth saw in the dark as well as he did. There was a faint but undeniable smug smile on the SOLDIER’s face; who had the upper hand now? 

The boy had turned into a man and two could play this game.

“What… Did you go to Veld for?”

“He believes you dead. I did nothing to change his perceptions about your fate, so you do not have to worry about that,” Sephiroth answered, offering more insight than Vincent certainly would have in his place. He didn’t begrudge the older man, though – he could tell he had been through a lot. He had only now started to find files and pieces, captured whispers here and there about his story and what happened to him in his past. The fact that he didn’t age and had cheated death were good evidence pointing towards unspeakable horrors.

“I wanted information. You offered me none, so I went to those who would actually speak.” The jab was soft, but still felt by Vincent. He didn’t know if he should be proud or disappointed in Sephiroth; but no one could deny the man was persistent. The silence seemed to keep the SOLDIER talking, “I wanted to know why you so desperately wanted me away when I never did anything to you.”

_‘Oh Valentine, surely you see the sweet irony of all this? Everyone you have loved has gone away and now the one person you sent away so you couldn’t love him… Returns to you. So, so deliciously sinful.’_

The ex-Turk was frozen in his place – he dared not move, he dared not speak. He had no idea what Sephiroth had discovered, but he was dangerously close to the truth. He didn’t know what to do, short of outright killing the SOLDIER. But was he capable of murdering Lucrecia’s son? He had obviously became an enemy to be feared – he was pretty sure no one obtained the rank of General without earning it, without killing a reasonable amount of people under Shinra’s name and banner. Even if he could physically overpower the silver-haired man, would he do it?

“Veld told me about your last mission, you know. He seemed surprised to hear my questions but the information was not classified, so he told me. He told me about how you were assigned to a project in Nibelheim, almost 25 years ago.”

Vincent’s heart now was beating wildly, almost like a savage bird imprisoned in a cage for the first time. He wanted to run, he wanted to scream, he wanted to close the lid to his coffin and never emerge again – but he did nothing of the sort and stood there, incapable of moving and subject to the merciless stare of two cold, deep pools of mako blue.

Sephiroth was the one that made the first move – he shifted, turning to his right so he could properly see the man he had been talking to. The frosty gaze was so intense that the ex-Turk never noticed the hand that raised from the darkness, coming to trace his cheekbones and then resting along the curve of his face.

Time stood still for Vincent Valentine.

“I am not stupid, Vincent. I could read between the lines. Were you trying to protect me?”

_‘Lie now, Vincent, lie because telling the truth would be an even bigger sin… But then again, what’s another one to a demon like you?’_

“Yes.” His voice was so coarse and dry that it barely sounded like himself. What was happening? How had he lost control so quickly to this game he had been playing for so long? Had he failed to see that the soon-to-be-General was not the innocent child of years ago?

Or was Sephiroth who had mastered the rules?

“Did you know I kept coming back here, even after last time? I don’t know why, but this place soothed me,” he said, gloved hand still in place. The SOLDIER could feel the warmth of the skin below the leather, could tell the other man’s blood was rushing and that his heart was agitated. It felt refreshing to reverse the reactions, to send the ex-Turk over the edge for a change.

He carried on, a small smile on his lips still, “I often talked to you, but you didn’t seem to listen… Until today. I felt like you didn’t judge me for being weak. You didn’t judge me for not wanting to be what everyone else expected me to.”

Each and every word was true, so painfully true that Vincent felt as if he couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t speak. He was still trying to come to terms with the notion that all his effort, all his nightmares and rejection attempts had been for nothing, because Sephiroth had clearly suffered and he was now so, so close… 

So close to adding another sin to a list. But maybe, for Sephiroth, he’d do it. Maybe the man so unlike any other was worthy of one more crime.

“Did you know you were one of my closest friends? I told you things I never confessed to anyone, I whispered secrets to the darkness that no one else ever heard. I cried in front of you when I couldn’t do it elsewhere, when I had slaughtered dozens of people in Wutai.”

_‘Do it, Valentine, do it!’_

“But maybe, had you been capable of speech, would you still be so understanding of my flaws?”

“Flaws? What flaws, Sephiroth?” Ah, finally, his voice returned. He gazed at the younger man with the most entranced and mystified expression, unable to understand what he meant by any kind of flaws; he was perfection personified. He was an angel forced to walk among mortals and monsters.

The chuckle which came as his reply was surprising – only then Vincent realized how close they had been, how easy it was for them to share the same breath. But he never pulled away and never protested when Sephiroth came forward to claim his lips in one demanding, desperate kiss. There was no soft, shy initial contact – no, the SOLDIER came with everything to it, like a man marching to his impending death in a battlefield under a cause he fiercely believed in.

Chaos was chuckling in his head, his ears were ringing from every alarm triggered on his body, his senses were screaming for him to stop – but the taste was so sweet and the smell of the future General so intoxicating that Vincent reciprocated the contact with a mighty need he wasn’t even aware he felt. Sure, Sephiroth had grown to be one of the most dashing creatures he had ever seen, but this was not mere lust.

This was something else, much, much more powerful and that the raven-haired man failed to notice. Too desperate to sacrifice himself again, he tortured himself with dreams and visions which paved the way for the sin he now committed, greedily so.

_‘He tastes like the heaven you’ll be forever denied…’_

And by Gaia, he did. The kiss seemed to unleash something inside both of them – for Sephiroth, it was an act of intimacy related to a man he had come to oddly trust, the only companion during his hours of doubt and the single individual he dared confess himself to. For Vincent, it was everything he never noticed he wanted, the chance to be deemed as a decent man by the very same person he believed to have disappointed in the past.

But this was wrong – this had to stop, even if it felt like the sweetest thing. The ex-Turk couldn’t do it, not when Lucrecia was so alive and in such pain in his dreams.

“No…” he gasped, moving away and turning his face. Sephiroth stared at him, confused and obviously frustrated, but he said nothing. It was time for Vincent to do the explaining, if he so wished, “I can’t do this.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“Both. We… This… This is wrong, Sephiroth.” He stood up then, visibly disturbed. Chaos was still chuckling, endless amused and relishing the feeling of having his host so utterly, undeniably lost in guilt and pain. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Your kiss just told me otherwise.”

He was now being hunted by Sephiroth, he realized. He had taken steps back but the soon-to-be General was coming after him, too determined to let the ex-Turk hide himself back into the coffin. They danced across the room until the older man was against the wall, mimicking the way he once cornered the silver-haired SOLDIER.

“Tell me, Vincent. You protected me for your entire life, you did everything in your power to keep me away from here… From you… Why?” His words were warm and quick against Vincent’s face and he wanted to steal another kiss to numb the pain of the lifeless bodies he saw in Wutai whenever he closed his eyes.

“Because I’m a monster, Sephiroth. I won’t tarnish your soul with my sins. I won’t let you be destroyed by my own hell.”

“I won a war for Shinra. I’m no longer the boy you sought to protect from this.”

He would not relent – there was no other way out, Vincent felt. He had no choice, he had to come clean about his past or otherwise he’d never forgive himself for this. No, it wasn’t about himself – it was about Sephiroth. He had a right to know, he just couldn’t keep this from him.

“I knew your mother. She is the reason I’m alive, I can’t… I can’t do this.”

That word seemed to stop the SOLDIER’s movements. He seemed stunned, almost… Hurt, by Vincent’s words. He recoiled then as if he had been bitten by a poisonous animal, but not without regarding the ex-Turk with suspicion-filled eyes. This was not a welcomed topic.

“Jenova? What do you know about her?”

_‘Go on Valentine, go ahead and break him… I always said you should have done it when he was still pure…’_

Oh Gaia, he wasn’t fully aware of everything… Yet. Vincent desperately wished to die now, for that seemed the only way to solve this. But he was immortal, he would need to live with the consequences of his terrible mistakes. He sighed then, eyeing the younger man who seemed absolutely desperate for answers.

“Your mother… Was not Jenova. Your real mother was the one who made it possible for me to cheat death. I’m the vessel for a planet WEAPON and it was her last resource to keep me alive. I… I once loved her. And I did my best to save her son when she rejected me and dedicated herself to science and the man who would become her husband.”

A WEAPON? So now it all made sense for the future General. The horns, the claws, the fangs – it had never been materia or a trick, it was merely it coming through. Sephiroth stepped away, in clear shock… And for a moment, Vincent breathed deeply, in relief.

There was no way they could be together again after this. Shinra’s pride and glory would surely flee.

And without a word, the silver-haired man left. His steps were calm and regularly paced, taking him upstairs until not a sound could be heard but Vincent’s own heartbeat, irregular and wild as if he had been going through a seizure. The man remained still, rooted to his place until he eventually rediscovered how to move, sitting down back inside his coffin and pulling the lid over him.

Vincent was unable to sleep for days – the memories of what he had just done were so much worse than any nightmare that he was deprived of the sweet scape slumber offered him.


	5. Age: 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic depictions of sex ahead.

The firm and demanding pressure of a mouth against his own was enough to make Vincent transition from his deep sleep to a fully awake state. He was confused as to what was happening but he needed no further clues to identify who was there – the kiss had a familiar heavenly taste, the hair that caressed his face was soft and perfumed just as he remembered, and there was also the distinct smell of leather from the outfit chosen by Sephiroth filling his nostrils.

Before he had a chance to return the kiss, whether consciously or not, the General was upon him again, straddling his body and claiming his lips once more in the most commandeering fashion. The coffin was not large, but allowed enough room for him to place his knees on the sides of Vincent’s body and bring him to a sitting position, ravishing his mouth as if he had a hunger that nothing else could satiate.

“S-Sephiroth?”

“Hello, Vincent,” he replied in a grave, smooth voice that made the ex-Turk frown. It was his beloved angel alright, but something was not right. Something was just out of place and he knew his instincts had been right when the General faced him and his eyes were shining much, much brighter than they should have. They sparkled with a glow that could only be madness.

_‘So beautiful…’_

“What are you doing?”

“I am doing what I should have done years ago, when we last talked. How long has it been to you, Vincent? Mere hours? A couple of minutes?” The ex-Turk couldn’t actually answer that, but for the first time, he had thought an eternity had passed between their encounters… But maybe because he believed they would never meet again.

“I… Don’t know. It felt like decades.”

“Three years, Vincent. Three years I spent looking everywhere for answers…” The General inched closer, his tongue leaving its moist cavern to trace the shape of his jawline and then going as far as his left ear. Vincent shivered despite not wanting to, and a soft moan had to be bit back when Sephiroth nibbled on his skin, his breath hot and so alive right next to his face.

“Everyone I met said you were a man of very few words… But you were the only one who gave me answers…” The tongue traced his ear shell now, and his hands played with his clothing. Vincent realized he was undoing the belts placed over his shirt and unclasping the cloak. 

“So I waited… Until I finally learned the truth. I’ve been to the reactor and I met Jenova… You were right, she is not my birth mother. But I can hear her calling for me.”

By Gaia, what had he done? Vincent finally found the strength to push him away, all the while trying to mute the excited laughter that suddenly invaded his thoughts. He was stronger than most so he was able to actually shove the General to the other end of the coffin, but he didn’t seem fazed by that. He looked almost… Pleased with that, rather.

“Will you join me, Vincent?”

“Join you in what?”

Sephiroth had removed his leather gloves while they talked, tossing them aside and crawling over the ex-Turk’s body. He reclaimed his place on Vincent’s lap easily, and leaned over with a disarmingly wicked smile to whisper at the raven-haired man’s ear:

“Let’s be monsters together, Vincent. I can think of no better company.”

These words were followed by another press of his lips and a shove, Sephiroth finally getting rid of one of Vincent’s many offending belts. He lavished his ear, his neck, all patch of visible skin with kisses while the older man laid still, the proposition still ringing in his ears.

_‘Oh Valentine, this is music to our ears…’_

“Sephiroth, what…? I just told you about your mother, about everything…”

“I care not for the woman I never knew, Vincent. A mother is merely an idea… I want you and your fierce demons at my side…” He sat down, staring right into Vincent’s deep pools of crimson which were getting sudden flashes of gold. He loved this – he was enjoying every second of stripping all self-control and righteousness from the raven-haired man.

One hand was suddenly between his legs, squeezing his member through the fabric of his pants. The ex-Turk was shocked to realize he was excited, turned on even by this talk and the stimulation of his body which had its urges ignored for so long. The lines were starting to blur and he was losing control, he knew; he could feel it slipping through his fingers like sand…

As a last resource, he used his hands and pushed the General away. They struggled briefly but the ex-Turk won and Sephiroth was thrown to the ground, outside the coffin. Vincent stood up and then stepped out, yanking the younger man by the leather straps of his outfit and shaking him violently, desperately.

“Are you insane, Sephiroth?”

“No… I’m merely free, Vincent, and I wish to free you as well,” he said, both hands reaching for the older man and keeping him closer. Vincent’s heart beat wildly, his senses overloading with the presence and the persistence of the younger man. He had failed, hadn’t he? Everything he did…

“Let go of this, Vincent. You died, you tormented yourself, you sacrificed everything and I was still manipulated and turned into a weapon. Nothing good ever came out from you trying to be decent, trying to be human…”

Vincent was panting, his hand holding Sephiroth shaking. The truth behind these words would soon be too much to bear, he should know. How many times had he came to the same conclusions and almost unleashed Chaos in the middle of his most desperate nightmares?

“Be yourself. Give in to your desires, break free of this guilt that traps you. I’ll forever cherish you for clearing my path and I’ll gladly watch this sad, hypocritical world burn if you agree to set it on fire with me.”

Suddenly, the General’s feet were touching the ground again. His hand didn’t let go of the leather straps however, and used them to pull the silver-haired man closer. When Vincent raised the face which had been hidden behind dark, long hair, his eyes were made of molten gold and he smiled in such a vicious way that could only be described as a mirror to Sephiroth’s own malicious smirk.

Their mouths clashed deliciously, frantically. Now the raven-haired man’s hands were everywhere, undoing belts and claps and seeking to disrobe the SOLDIER just as he started to be undressed himself. Fingers fumbled and trembled, but eventually they had let go of their attires, Sephiroth thrown unceremoniously to the ground with the help of Vincent’s preternatural strength.

“I was often torn… Between scaring you away… And claiming you…” Vincent’s voice was slightly distorted, graver even; but it was still himself. His darkest needs and desires had come out to play and any sense of justice or decency had abandoned him. Sephiroth was right – why should he care? Why should he try to protect a world where children were experimented on, where he was abused by a mad scientist, where a program like SOLDIER existed?

“Then do it, Vincent,” he whispered into the ear when the ex-Turk came to kiss his neck and chest, leaving kisses and bites all over the perfect skin. The General, on his turn, was completely entranced by the scars, the burns, the marks of his tragic past – he traced and touched them with ease and shivered, delighted in their intimate union, “Because I waited for this for far too long.”

The notion of Sephiroth desiring him, of all people, was mystifying – but he dared not question. He kissed and worshipped the godly body of the SOLDIER, kneaded his muscles, gripped his tights and grinded against him. That elicited excited moans from both of them and they repeated it, again and again, until both members were dripping and trembling, yearning for attention.

It had been too long since Vincent last did this – but suddenly the memories rushed forward and he remembered every detail as if his last lover had taken his bed just nights ago. But this was no ordinary lover, nothing like anyone else before him – and both men knew this. The younger one was obedient enough to lick and suck on the ex-Turk’s fingers when they were presented to him, the wet sounds driving him crazy in anticipation.

Preparation was delicious torture – they both had enhanced bodies and could withstand the pain, but Vincent didn’t want to cause any to the SOLDIER. He added his own saliva when it was necessary, lubricating his fingers until one digit could enter his body with ease, watching the moans and the spasms of the SOLDIER’s body with undisputed attention.

“You are so beautiful, Sephiroth…”

“I know,” came the unashamedly honest answer, no hint of modesty present when he was being fucked by one finger and clearly enjoying it, moving his hips to adjust to it and seeking the right angle, “And I shall be even more when I cry your name…”

This was madness – and yet Vincent was drowning in it. Sephiroth’s words had unleashed something strong, dark and kept hidden for so many years that his older self wouldn’t be able to recognize himself now. His eyes had become a mix of gold and ruby, burning with liquid desire and needing to possess him just to feel the warmth around him, to taste the screams on his lips… 

A finger gave way to two and then to three – they were both panting, sweating and hurting against the cold and dirty stone floor of the chambers, unaware of how much the place amplified their screams. Suddenly, Vincent used his free hand and directed it towards an old, dusty coffin filled with forgotten bones – and a fire erupted there, consuming the wood and illuminating the room in orange and red sparks that seemed to further enhance their passion.

“Do it, Vincent. Make me yours, break your chains…” And he couldn’t deny such a lovely request now, could he. The ex-Turk removed his fingers and added more saliva to his own shaft, the pre-cum working marvelously well as an impromptu lubricant as well. He came to hover over Sephiroth, adjusting his body so the tip of his member was properly angled, but what surprised him was not the warmth or the tightness of being inside the other man – but the way he wantonly moved and impaled himself, digging his nails into his back and screaming wonderfully.

Vincent drank such moans and gasps from his lips – he almost didn’t stop to breath, giving the other man seconds to readapt to the length inside him but moving when he felt his hips wiggling. The ex-Turk was glad to comply, building up a pace as he trusted and felt the marks which the General left on his back, moaning softly due to the powerful pleasure he felt.

“A-ah! Again Vincent, do it again…”

He knew the moment he had hit the perfect spot just from the way Sephiroth trembled and moved against him. Vincent slipped one hand between them, stroking the forgotten erection from the silver-haired man and loving the moans and whimpers he received in return, thrusting hard and steadily into the muscular body beneath him.

“it’s… The sweetest thing to hear you… Saying my name like that…”

Mako blue eyes snapped open to glance at the dazzling and preternatural irises above him. He grinned then, one hand going to help Vincent between their bodies, allowing himself a moment to notice just how much Vincent was also enjoying that depraved encounter and wrapping his legs around his body to further instigate him.

“Gaia only knows how many times I screamed for you when I was alone…” and then he raised his head, seeking a kiss and receiving a forceful, lust-filled one. They kissed with more desperation as the pace increased and they knew it would be impossible to keep it up for longer.

No matter. They didn’t need to. They had eternity ahead.

“But not anymore,” Vincent replied, moving down to bite Sephiroth’s neck and starting to lose control of his thrusts; he knew the feeling and was also painfully aware of how close his angel was, so he stroked him faster, urgently; aimed for his special spot again and again, until both men were a messy, sweaty mess of desire and screams, joined together in the most primal desire.

Vincent came first, spilling himself into Sephiroth’s welcoming body; his erratic, stronger thrusts during his climax were enough to make the younger man go over the edge as well, coming violently between their bodies and leaving their hands sticky and covered in the evidence of their sin. The older man rode the General for a few more thrusts before finally collapsing, laying on top of his once beloved, innocent angel and stealing one more kiss.

A few seconds passed before Sephiroth’s clean hand came to entangle himself in the midnight strands, both men regaining his breath. Vincent had to move, lowering himself in order to face the General and finding only utter, absolute bliss and fulfillment in his mako blue eyes. He had no mirror, but he wagered that his crimson gaze was faring no better – he had failed utterly and completely and he had never felt better.

Only then he noticed how silent his head was – no shared thoughts, no taunts. But then, the faintest chuckle came, only it was not vicious or maleficent; it was merely amused and distinctly proud.

_‘Beware, world, for here be monsters.’_

“This is hell, isn’t it.”

“But of course it is,” Sephiroth replied easily, bestowing a kiss on his lover’s lips in the most innocent way after everything they had just done, “I can think of no other place better suited for a demon and a fallen angel, after all.”

Vincent smiled then, enjoying the feeling of being so light and unburdened as the fire nearby consumed the wood and all his guilt and martyrdom. This felt like sin, like hell indeed… This felt like home.

**THE END**


End file.
